


The Measure of a Man

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Blindfolds, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come for Eggsy to learn about being a Kingsman tailor. First lesson: take Harry's measurements and somehow manage not to spontaneously combust.</p><p>Jumping out of an airplane was easier than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of a Man

One of the biggest surprises Eggsy got when he joined Kingsman was learning that the shop on Savile Row was not just a front for the agency. "The shop has been in existence for over a hundred and fifty years," Harry said. "And it will remain so until there is no longer a need for it. As such, any one of us might be called upon at any time to assist." He looked at Eggsy. "And that includes you."

"Me?" Eggsy shook his head, pretty sure that Harry was just taking the piss in his usual dry, no-nonsense Harry way. "Yeah, I don't think so, bruv."

"Yes, you," Harry said. "Now, no one expects you to learn how to sew – just yet –" and here he gave Eggsy a look that struck terror into Eggsy's heart, because _sewing?_

"But," Harry continued, "you will be expected to learn some of the more basic skills of a tailor. And to start with, that means learning to take a man's measurements."

Eggsy tried to hold back a groan. "Seriously, Harry?"

Harry didn't even bother to respond. He just turned and headed for the private tube that would take them back to London and the shop.

The ride there was fairly short, and Eggsy tapped his foot nervously the entire way. "So, like, how do we do this?"

"You will take my measurements," Harry said. "I'm in need of a new suit, anyway, so the exercise will serve two purposes."

Little silent explosions went off in the pit of Eggsy's stomach. He remembered quite clearly the measurements the tailor had made on him when fitting him for his first bespoke suit. The tailor – who was obviously part of the agency, which, so stupid of him, why hadn't he realized that before – had been strictly professional the entire time, but some of those measurements were awfully intimate. He remembered squirming a little in embarrassment and being quietly reprimanded to stand still.

And now he had to take those same measurements on Harry.

The thought of it made hot color stain his cheeks. Since the end of the world that wasn't, since Harry's return from Kentucky with an ugly new scar and a headache that would never really go away, Eggsy had wanted nothing more than to take their relationship to the next level. He had thought that moving in with Harry might do the trick, but although they shared the house and lived together, so far Harry had remained the perfect gentleman. He seemed oblivious to Eggsy's clumsy attempts at flirting, and he had never done anything that might be mistaken for an advance.

It wasn't right, Eggsy had thought over and over. Night after night the object of his dreams slept just down the hall, and all Eggsy still had was his own hand and a furtive wank session beneath the sheets.

Lately he had started thinking of maybe asking Roxy for some advice, but he wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. He was pretty sure she knew what was going on, even though he hadn't breathed a word of it to her. Still, coming right out and asking her would be utterly humiliating, and he wasn't _that_ desperate yet.

Now this. A lesson in tailoring. Featuring Harry as the star of the show.

Eggsy closed his eyes and groaned quietly. Fucking hell, there wasn't a chance he was going to get through this with his dignity intact, was there?

****

"Now then," Harry said. "The first thing you must do is remember that your client has come to you for one specific thing, and one thing only. He is not interested in making small talk about the weather or sport. If he shows an interest in conversation, then of course you should respond, but keep it brief and polite. And for God's sake never get involved in a conversation about politics."

Eggsy nodded. He was barely listening. All his attention was on Harry.

The fitting room was fairly large, but it felt like a broom closet just then, closing them into a space that was far too small for all the things Eggsy was feeling right now. To distract himself from what was happening, he took off his suit jacket and hung it up, fussing a little with the sleeves and picking invisible bits of lint off the cuffs. 

He couldn't do that forever, though, and eventually he wandered over to the counter where a cloth tape measure lay in a loose coil. Beside it was a pad of lined paper where he was supposed to write down the measurements he took. A sleek black pen rested atop the paper, and Eggsy was somewhat amused to note that it was a typical Kingsman pen, poison nestled inside along with the ink.

He wondered how many people had died in one of these fittings rooms, then decided he probably didn't want to know.

"All set?"

He wasn't, but he never would be, so he took a deep breath and he turned around.

Harry stood in the center of the room, waiting on him. He had stripped down to a white strappy undershirt, but kept his trousers on. He had taken his shoes off, but their loss did nothing to diminish his greater height.

It was the most Eggsy had ever seen of Harry's body, and the sight hypnotized him. He couldn't stop staring at the width of Harry's shoulders in comparison to his waist and hips. Or the hair curling on Harry's chest in that round dip of his undershirt. And all that smooth pale skin, marred in a couple places by old scars, these long-since gone to white, unlike the jagged red line that crossed his forehead.

_Fuck._

"Eggsy?"

He cleared his throat a little too forcefully. "Yeah."

"Are you ready to begin?" Harry asked.

He realized he was sweating. "Bit warm in here, innit?"

"It's perfectly fine," Harry said. "Now, you begin with the neck, for the collar measurement."

Eggsy nodded. Shit. Okay, he could do this. He had jumped out of a plane. He had killed any number of people by blowing their heads up. He had almost been sliced to ribbons by a madwoman who walked on knives.

He could do this. He totally could.

Tape measure in hand, he walked up to Harry. He slid the cloth line around Harry's neck.

"For this and all measurements," Harry instructed, "keep one finger between the tape and your client's body."

Swallowing hard, Eggsy eased his forefinger behind the measuring tape. He could feel Harry's pulse, could feel how maddeningly calm he was, and it only ratcheted up the tension inside him still further.

"And then you're done," Harry said.

Eggsy nodded, and made the big mistake of looking up.

This close, it was impossible not to want to kiss Harry. He wanted it more than anything just then. He would let go of the measuring tape and leave it draped across Harry's shoulders like a scarf. He would reach up and gently remove the Kingsman glasses that framed those warm brown eyes. He would lift up onto his toes a little, because Harry was so damn tall, and then he would press his lips to Harry's, and he would finally, finally have this…

"Eggsy?"

He startled back. "Yeah. Right. Sorry."

"Did you get it?" Harry asked.

He glanced at the tape measure and noted the number. "Yeah."

"Then write it down," Harry said patiently.

"Yeah," Eggsy mumbled. He released the tape, then walked the two paces over to the counter where all kinds of amenities were set out for the gentleman client – lotion, hand sanitizer, after-dinner mints, a silver dish for placing one's wallet or keys or coins into. The notepad with the poison pen lay at the far end of the counter, discreetly set aside, leaving plenty of room for the client's belongings.

His hand was trembling a little as he wrote down Harry's measurement.

"Chest next," Harry said.

Eggsy closed his eyes briefly and prayed for strength.

On and on it went, one measurement after another. Chest, stomach, waist, hips. Harry was in ridiculously good shape for a man his age, no pudgy stomach or anything. He stood with easy confidence, secure in his own skin in a way Eggsy doubted he would ever know for himself. Putting on the Kingsman suit always made him feel different – braver, stronger – but the man inside it was still just plain old Eggsy Unwin, the scared little kid from the council estate who had to steal from other people in order to feel big.

Shoulders next, standing behind Harry now, and it was too much for Eggsy. He couldn't hold out any longer. He had to give in to the overwhelming temptation to just _touch._ He smoothed the measuring tape across the arc of Harry's broad shoulders, his fingers skimming along Harry's skin, and more of those little explosions went off in his stomach. His cock was starting to pay serious attention to what they were doing here, too, and he had to shift his stance a little; there wasn't much room in tailored trousers to hide an erection.

"All right, Eggsy?" Harry asked.

Eggsy stared at the pale skin of Harry's upper back, stitched there with a new scar where he had been stabbed in the church in Kentucky. Stupid, so stupid, the way he wanted to lean in and kiss that scar. He wanted to press his cheek against Harry's skin and _nuzzle._ He wanted to ease his fingertips up over the nape of Harry's neck and sink them into Harry's hair.

Against his better judgment, he actually started to do it. He just couldn't help it. He swayed forward a little and inhaled deeply, smelling cologne and soap and the scent that was just plain Harry, that could never be bottled or contained.

His cock twitched again, and Eggsy gasped and stepped back a little.

"Write it down," Harry instructed, and for the first time there was a tiny crack in his calm tone. Like he had noticed Eggsy's breath hot on his skin. Like he knew exactly the effect he was having on Eggsy, and what Eggsy was doing.

He wrote down the measurement, adding it to the list, and then walked back over to where Harry stood.

"Jacket length," Harry said. He had regained his perfect gentleman's poise. "Highest point of the shoulder to the thumb joint. Shorter might be trendy, but gentlemen are not interested in being trendy. We wear the suit properly, and that means a longer jacket."

Standing now on Harry's right side, Eggsy stretched out the measuring tape. Harry stood perfectly still, at ease, his hands open and relaxed. A killer's hands, with long fingers, trained and talented, able to pick up anything and turn it into a lethal weapon. Hands that had been stained with blood on that sunny day in Kentucky. Hands that Eggsy desperately wanted to feel on his body.

Sleeve length, bicep and wrist. Harry was deceptively strong beneath those bespoke suits, and yet he had such slender wrists. Eggsy wanted to wrap his fingers about one, lift it to his lips and kiss it. He wanted to feel the pulse beating there, the pulse that had almost been stopped for good on that horrible day outside the church.

It was no good. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. Especially knowing what came next, where he had to take that measuring tape.

"A tailor always remains professional," Harry said, and damn him, of course he would choose this moment for a lecture. Giving Eggsy more time to think about what was coming. "There will be no snickering, no giggling, no amusement. You must always be discreet. If the client does not now volunteer the information you require, then you quietly ask to which side he dresses. Never phrase it any other way."

Eggsy nodded. As if he didn't already know. Like his eyes hadn't been drawn to the front of Harry's trousers time and again over the past few weeks.

"Eggsy?"

"Oh," he said, and damnit, it came out more like a squeak. "You want me to ask? Now?"

"Yes," Harry said, still everlastingly patient. "Now."

Red heat stained his cheeks. Oh Christ. He was so, so fucked.

He cleared his throat again. "Right." Deliberately he looked Harry in the eye, refusing to let his gaze slip any lower. "What side do you dress on, then?"

"To the left," Harry said, "but next time I would suggest a slightly less aggressive phrasing, if I were you."

Eggsy mumbled something that could have been agreement. He didn't want to think about there being a next time. He was having a hard enough time dealing with this particular one.

"Now," Harry began.

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted. "This one I remember." Mostly what he remembered was the bright humiliation of almost physically pushing the tailor away. _Oi, what are you on about, bruv?_ And the tailor so professional, so rigidly polite, informing him that a crotch measurement was necessary for the suit, and would sir be so good as to spread his legs just a little and stand tall?

He took up the tape and blew out a long breath. His hands were shaking again, and there was no hiding that, or the way he was still blushing furiously as he set the end of the tape at the very back of Harry's trousers, in the middle of his waist. He held it there with his index finger, then let it drop.

The tape unrolled as it fell and then just dangled, swaying lightly. His cheeks flaming, Eggsy moved around to Harry's right side again, reached between Harry's legs and grabbed the end of the tape, then carefully brought it up and along the front of Harry's trousers. The motion made his hand brush Harry's crotch, and he caught his breath. He jerked away as though burned, muttering, "Sorry, sorry."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't move. But Eggsy knew the truth now: Harry wasn't as disinterested as he appeared. He could look and sound as cool and composed as he wanted, but his body couldn't lie.

Eggsy took the measurement, resolutely looking at the number on the tape and nothing else.

Thigh and legs next, and he was crouching now, running his hand up Harry's leg, wondering if certain other parts of Harry were as long as the rest of him. Those long fingers, the legs that gave him such height, the big feet. If that glancing touch a few seconds ago was anything to go by, the answer was yes, but Eggsy told himself furiously not to think about it. Not now. Not when he wasn't done yet.

Knee measurement next and then at last it was done, and Eggsy could finally breathe. He set the cloth tape down beside the notebook, wrote the last number, and felt a quivery little shudder work through him. He had done it. He had survived.

"Very well done," Harry approved. "A little slow, perhaps, but that will improve with practice."

Eggsy's mouth went dry. Oh God, if Harry made him do it all over again… He would spontaneously combust. He knew he would.

"Eventually," Harry continued, "you'll be able to size up a man just by looking at him. It will become second nature."

"No way," Eggsy said.

"Of course nothing should ever be substituted for real measurements," Harry said, "but you might be surprised. Your first intuition will be awfully close."

Suddenly intrigued, Eggsy looked at him from across the fitting room. It was easier to do now that he didn't have to focus on Harry's body. "So what about me then? You know my measurements?"

"Of course," Harry said.

"Yeah?" Eggsy grinned. "Prove it."

Harry's eyes narrowed behind the glasses, and his head tilted ever so slightly. Challenge accepted. He studied Eggsy with such intense scrutiny that Eggsy felt himself flush all over again, much to his embarrassment. The erection that had only just started to wilt came back to life, and he had to resist the urge to cover himself.

"Which measurement would you like?" Harry said. In quick succession he rattled off three of them: collar, chest, and sleeve. "Now I suppose you'll tell me which ones I got wrong?"

"I don't know them," Eggsy said. He hadn't been paying any attention to the numbers on the tape during his own measuring, being torn between embarrassment and worry about what Richmond Valentine was doing at the shop. He hadn't liked that, the fact that Valentine knew where to find Harry, that he knew where the shop itself was.

And as it turned out, he had been right to worry.

"Well, then I guess we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," Harry said. He walked over to the counter, and Eggsy quickly moved out of his way. His heart was going a mile a minute, and he could feel sweat breaking out on his palms. The thought of being measured all over, and by Harry Hart, was just too much.

Harry picked up the measuring tape. "Collar first. I'll measure, and you can tell me if I got it right."

Numbly, Eggsy nodded. He stood stock still as Harry approached. He felt far too warm, as though the walls were closing in around him. He was pretty sure Harry could hear the pounding of his heart.

The cloth tape slid about his neck. One of Harry's fingers pressed lightly to his throat. Up close his eyes behind the glasses were incredible, so warm and inviting, a warmth all the more mesmerizing because Eggsy had seen firsthand how cold they could become.

"All right." Harry held up the measuring tape. "How did I do?"

Eggsy made himself look away from Harry's eyes and check the tape. The spot where Harry's thumb rested was exactly the measurement Harry had said it would be. "Yeah," he said. "It's right."

Harry smiled faintly. "Next?"

The tape was passed around behind his back. Harry had to lean in closer to do it, and Eggsy caught another whiff of his cologne and the warm smell of his bare skin. He stared at the curve of Harry's shoulder, the smoothness of his collarbone, and he wanted to press his lips to those places so badly. He wanted to run his tongue over an old scar mostly hidden by the strap of Harry's undershirt. He wanted to grab Harry and pull him in and kiss him until he was breathless and flustered in a way Eggsy had only dreamed of.

Another measurement, Harry stretching the tape across his chest, then holding it up for Eggsy to see. Once again, the number was spot on with Harry's original guess.

Once was coincidence. Twice was not. "You peeked," he said. "Put your thumb on the number you guessed."

"I do not cheat," Harry said, which was a bald-faced lie. They were spies. Lying was what they did for a living. "Not when it comes to matters such as this."

And Eggsy couldn't help it. He always just had to push people's buttons. More so with Harry, who was always so strait-laced that the temptation to get him disheveled was just too overwhelming to ignore. "Prove it," he said.

Harry gazed at him for a long moment, probably trying to see if he was just taking the piss or not. Then he said, "Fair enough." He held out the measuring tape and Eggsy took it back instinctively, even though he wasn't really sure he wanted to.

Harry crossed the fitting room to where his jacket and shirt had been placed on hangers and then hung from the coat hooks lining the wall. He glanced back once at Eggsy, his expression equal parts fond affection and a quiet challenge of his own. Then he removed his glasses and slid them into the front pocket of his crisp white shirt. He lifted his tie from where it was draped across the hanger bearing his shirt, laid it across his eyes, and tied it in a quick knot behind his head. "Will that satisfy you?"

Eggsy couldn't speak. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined something like this. His trousers were far too tight now, and his mouth had gone dry. He felt feverishly hot, burning all over with sheer unadulterated lust.

"Well?" Harry prompted.

The tie was dark navy, patterned with small white polka dots. Where it passed across Harry's eyes, it was wide enough to cover part of his forehead as well, which only accentuated the fresh scar left by Valentine's bullet. The ends dangled down just behind his left ear and brushed against the bare skin of his shoulder.

"Er," Eggsy stammered. He swallowed hard.

"I'll take that as a yes," Harry said dryly. He walked forward two steps, paused, then took another, slightly shorter step, which brought him directly in front of Eggsy. He held out his hand. "Tape."

Somewhat to his surprise, Eggsy's hand was steady as he let the measuring tape drift across the backs of Harry's fingers.

Quicker than he would have thought possible, Harry grabbed for the tape and Eggsy's wrist at the same time. Eggsy had already started to pull away, not wanting their hands to touch, and he was so caught off guard that he let out a very undignified yelp as Harry's hand closed about his wrist.

He stood perfectly still as Harry's fingers walked lightly up his arm. The tie covering Harry's eyes was dark and silky, inviting a gentle touch. Harry's lips were slightly parted, and although much of his face was obscured by the blindfold, there was no mistaking the sharp intensity of his expression.

Eggsy didn't move as Harry's hand settled on his shoulder. He could barely remember to keep breathing.

"Sleeve," Harry said, and brought the tape measure to Eggsy's shoulder.

This measurement meant he had to stand with both arms hanging naturally at his sides, his fingers extended normally. He couldn't make a fist, couldn't stiffen up with tension and the overpowering urge to reach up and grab the loose ends of that polka-dotted tie and use them to yank Harry toward him and kiss him senseless. He wanted to see if Harry would blush, or what it would take for a single curl to fall from his careful hairstyle and droop down over his forehead, onto the tie itself.

This mental image was nearly his undoing. As Harry smoothed the tape down his arm, Eggsy had to lock his knees to keep from reeling. His cock was throbbing in his trousers, and he could feel little quivers running through his whole body.

He had never wanted anyone more in his entire life.

"And there," Harry said. He held up the tape, thumb pressed to the spot where the measurement ended. "Am I right?"

Eggsy barely glanced at it. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah, you are."

"There, you see," Harry said. "I trust I've made my point?"

"Yeah," Eggsy said again. He didn't think he was capable of saying anything else.

"Well then," Harry said. He sounded enormously pleased with himself as he reached up to remove the blindfold.

Eggsy acted without thinking. It was instinct, his hand moving of its own accord, his overheated body divorced from his rational brain. Before he knew what he was doing, he had seized hold of Harry's wrist, preventing him from reaching the tie wrapped about his eyes.

For half an instant Harry's arm went rigid, his wrist tensing beneath Eggsy's fingers, his hand snapping closed into a fist. In the next heartbeat he relaxed again, but it was enough to remind Eggsy that Harry was a stone-cold killer, and make him understand that if he valued his own life, he should probably never do anything like that again.

But he didn't let go.

"Eggsy?" Harry sounded curious, not worried. Certainly not afraid.

"I just…" Oh Christ, he had already fucked things up, hadn't he. There was really no reason not to keep going. After all, at this point he had nothing to lose.

So he kissed Harry.

Startled, Harry jerked back a little, but he didn't try to break the kiss. For a long moment nothing happened, neither of them moving, their lips pressed together and nothing else. The rapidly dwindling rational side of Eggsy's brain yelled at him to stop and stop _right now,_ but the rest of him was too busy trying to commit everything to memory. He wanted to remember this forever, this single moment when Harry's lips were on his, but before it all turned to shit around him.

It couldn't last, it couldn't, and he meant to pull away, really he did, but before he could make himself do it, Harry uttered a low groan and was suddenly kissing him back. Harry's hands latched onto his upper arms, thumbs digging into his biceps hard enough to leave bruises.

Eggsy didn't feel a thing.

All he knew then was that he was kissing Harry and Harry was kissing him, and it was the greatest moment of his entire life. He opened his mouth to Harry's tongue, and he swayed forward, wanting more contact between them, needing to feel more of Harry against him. But Harry's firm grip on his arms wouldn't let him close the distance between them, and to his absolute horror, he heard himself make a frustrated whimpering sound.

Instantly Harry lifted his head and broke the kiss. He let go of Eggsy's arms and reached up to sweep the blindfold off. He blinked rapidly a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden light after being in darkness for a while. In those moments his expression was completely unguarded, and Eggsy saw an amazing thing.

Harry wanted him just as much as he wanted Harry.

Too shocked to say anything, Eggsy just stood there.

Harry was the one who spoke first. "I apologize, Eggsy. I shouldn't have taken advantage like that. I—"

"Take advantage?" Eggsy couldn't believe his ears. "Harry, I've wanted you to _take advantage_ of me for weeks now!"

Harry didn't speak. He just looked at Eggsy with those incredible eyes, still holding onto both the measuring tape and his tie in one hand.

"I thought you knew," Eggsy said. "I thought I was being obvious but you just didn't want me back." He grinned. "God, Harry, I've been going out of my mind!"

"But I did know," Harry said, and Eggsy's grin froze on his face.

"But then…" He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't know what to say.

"I had to be sure," Harry said, "that this was something we both genuinely wanted."

There was an almost-threat in those words, a hint of some awful future alone if certain conditions were not met, a life without Harry, a life too terrible to contemplate. Eggsy was filled with a sudden panic. "And is it?" he demanded. "Is it?"

"For my part, absolutely yes," Harry said quietly. "And you?"

"God, Harry," Eggsy said. "Don't you know? I've wanted you ever since I laid eyes on you outside that police station. Standing there with your umbrella and your suit and the sun on your hair…" He scrunched up his face, aware that he had just said something incredibly stupid, but it was too late, it was already out there.

But those words, dumb as they were, seemed to have a strange effect on Harry. He had never seen Harry's face so soft before, his eyes magnificent without the glasses. "Oh, Eggsy. What fools we've both been. I have loved you since that first night, when you walked into that shop based on nothing more than my word, and the hope that you would find a better life for yourself."

Eggsy nearly choked. He had never said that word out loud, had barely even thought it in relation to Harry before. But it fit, hell, it was perfect.

It was right.

"I love you too, you know," he confessed, and it was amazing how easy it was to say the words out loud. "I think I always have."

He didn't even know who made the first move. He just knew that they were in each other's arms then, and Harry was kissing him again, and finally Eggsy was doing what he had wanted to do for so long, laying his hands on Harry with the knowledge that now he could do this any time he wanted.

It was a sweet kiss at first. He ran his hands lightly over Harry's bare shoulders, down the firm muscle of his upper arms and then back up again, and the heat inside him that had been banked started to take fire once again. He wanted more then, he _needed_ more, and he slid his hands around to Harry's back, pulling Harry closer to him.

"Perhaps we should go home now," Harry murmured, lips at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah," Eggsy breathed. He didn't want their first time to be in here, where the whole thing was undoubtedly being recorded. Not that he had any objections to being recorded. But not now. Not today.

They separated, and Eggsy stood there breathing heavily, watching with delight as Harry put his shirt back on and did up the buttons with those long, slender fingers. He couldn't wait to get home and undo them all again, taking his time about it too, slowly revealing the breadth of Harry's chest and shoulders.

And that was just to start with. There would be more, so much more. Not just the sex, but their life together in that house in London. Lazy Sundays and taking JB for walks and bickering over whose turn it was to do the washing-up after dinner. Slouching on the couch watching TV while Harry poured drinks for them both, red dressing gown cinched about his waist. Going to bed, Harry climbing the stairs backward, leaning forward somewhat awkwardly so he could continue kissing Eggsy every step of the way. Waking up with his head on Harry's pillow and Harry's arm draped over him, warm and sleepy and perfectly happy.

It was a fairy-tale ending, maybe, but shit, he and Harry both deserved it after everything, didn't they?

Sometimes it really _was_ that kind of movie.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I know about measuring for bespoke suits comes from [this incredibly useful guide.](https://www.moderntailor.com/static/mt/men_suit_measureguide.pdf)


End file.
